


Heads or Tails

by Studentxdreams1



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Corruption, Earth-3 (Crime Syndicate Universe), Gotham City Police Department, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Studentxdreams1/pseuds/Studentxdreams1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a morally reversed Gotham city, Captain Harvey Dent of the GCPD has seen too many people lose to Owlman, and wants to stake his survival on the flip of a coin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads or Tails

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into canon alternate universes and my longest Batman fic to date, which is fun. There are some parts of Earth-3 continuity that bug me, so this fic adds my personal head cannon to the universe. Mainly, that Eve Dent is the brother of Harvey, not the AU equivalent (I don't see why they reversed Two-Face's gender and no one elses). I also made Jokester both scarred (like nolan-verse) and bleached (like comic-Joker), rather than having the backstory of one but looking like the other.
> 
> Hopefully this can be read without knowledge of E3, but I'm not a good judge about that.

 

Despite the common opinion of tourists, it almost never rained in Gotham. Rather, the air always seemed to hang heavy and damp, no matter that rainstorms were far and few between. It was something the local’s had gotten used to, so much so that the air in other cities seemed almost painfully dry in comparison.

However, heavy droplets were shooting down on skin, prickling like needles. It drowned out the city sounds, although this was a task easily accomplished; A few hours after sunset, traffic dimmed down to the minimum, with barely a car travelling. It would almost look like an abandoned city if not for the floodlights positioned on the roof of the scattered police buildings.

These lights served as a warning.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that they were necessary, as most nights were marred by the preying shadow of Owlman as he crossed structures and alleyways.

Each building, stunted in growth for such a large city, failed to show any lit windows as residents blacked them out in a desperate attempt to avoid attention being drawn to their apartments.

Not that the darkness deterred The Owl.

Night was his favourite time. He loved the screams of those he went after, but with the drowning sound of rain it felt much more intimate; like comparing the act of love to the dullness of sex. The screaming was only for him and the current of nature ran blood pink and washed away the chaos.

Captain Harvey Dent, head of the Gotham City Major Crimes Unit, knew this. He’d heard it straight from the bird’s mouth.

Harvey had grown up on the wrong side of Gotham, which, to be fair, covered most of the city. His parents had been thugs-for-hire, who had eventually gotten a permanent position in Joe Chill’s gang. Harvey could remember being thirteen, playing poker with ex-cons for cigarettes. He’d just finished one and was starting to light another with the stub, when a boy, not too much younger than him, ten years old maybe, had asked him for the cigarette butt.

Not thinking anything of it, Harvey had handed it over. The kid had examined it carefully, then rolled up his sleeve and calmly pressed it against his wrist.

“ _What the hell are you doing!?_ ” Harvey had balked.

“ _I’m testing_.”

“ _Testing what?_ ”

“ _How much it hurts._ ” The kid had looked up and met his eyes, _“When I do it to other people, I want to know how much pain they’re in. It’s better that way._ ”

“ _When y-?_ ” A sharp kick with steel-capped boots cut him off.

“ _That’s Chill’s pet project._ ” A man hissed. The ‘If you piss him off, Chill will kill you’ was deeply implied.

The kid tugged on Harvey’s sleeve, drawing his attention back to the golden brown orbs. “ _I’m Tommy_.” He’d said, “ _What’s your name?_ ”

“ _Harvey_.”

“ _When you’re done with that smoke, Harvey, can I have that too?_ ”

Harvey had looked around to the adults for guidance, but found that they were all avoiding the scene, their faces buried in playing cards.

“ _You gonna burn yourself with it?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ” For the first time during the conversation, Tommy smiled. It was a smile that that never belonged on a child so young. “ _Or we could flip for it,_ ” He pulled a coin from his pocket.“ _I win; I get the butt and practice on myself. You win; I get the butt and practice on you._ ”

“ _Sure, why not._ ”

Harvey had won the toss, and from then on Tommy had taken a liking to him. Whether it was because he was the only one of a similar age, or because Harvey wasn’t afraid of him, he had no idea.

Captain Dent lent back on the car headrest and closed his eyes.

Several unmarked police cars had been placed around the city, trying to track The Owl’s movements. He was across the road from where he _knew_ Tommy lived, supposably to watch out for Owlman, but his placement had been orchestrated by the Owl himself.

Not that it mattered. The rain was beating so hard on the windshield it just looked like a blanket of water. Harvey doubted any of the other cars could see anything outside the metal coffins.

He pulled up the hood of a police academy sweatshirt, trying to warm the cold side of his face. Or, rather, the cold _er_ half. Steak-outs required the car motor to be off, but he had a cassette walkman to help him forget the cold, and a police radio to play twenty questions with Lieutenant Zsasz, one of the more straight-laced officers.

A flicker of blurred light caught his attention, and Harvey silenced his Sinatra tape before rolling down his window and sticking his head out into the storm.

It was Owlman’s window.

Harvey sighed and scratched his mangled flesh. Even though he knew he was supposed to let it go, all his cop instincts screamed at him to call for backup and charge in.

He pulled his head back out of the rain, turned the walkman back on and let the calming tones fill his ears. He wound the window back up and ran a hand through his hair to shake out the droplets. It would be a few more hours before Owlman went out again; he may have done the most damage by night, but he still liked to see his handy-work in the full glory of day.

Yawning, Harvey stretched as much as he could in the confines of the car and reached under the seat to clunk the backrest into a laidback position. Pulling his feet up onto the chair, Harvey curled himself and folded his arms under his head.

 

* * *

 

The furniture was clean, clear cut and painfully modern. It had been developed in other cities, where advances hadn’t been stunted by a man in an owl suit. Most of it was white, with blue and bronze accents. All in all, Harvey thought it looked stuck-up.

He approached a glass and metal desk and pulled open one of the deep draws. Inside were files which Harvey knew contained nothing important, but he flicked through anyway. He also checked the lining under the couch and flittered through the books on the shelf. There was no television to take apart; Tommy thought himself above such things.

Then he searched the kitchen; running a pocket black-light over the kitchen utensils. The potato peeler came up positive, but Harvey didn’t touch it, instead making a mental note to collect it when they raided the apartment in force.

The fridge held no body parts or soft-drink. There was an ashtray on the bench even though Harvey knew Tommy didn’t smoke. It was for when Harvey came over, even though he’d quit years ago. Tommy still hoped he’d start up again.

The spare room didn’t have a drop of furniture in it, and was cleared by the black-light. Harvey didn’t step inside, knowing that disrupting the carpet would let Owlman know someone had broken in.

The apartment itself didn’t have any security. It didn’t need it given the owner.

Harvey was confident walking the apartment on official police business as he knew he could play it off as a visit from an old friend should Tommy return early.

Though they rarely caught up outside of business, Harvey knew he was still welcome.

The bedroom was a little different to the rest of the house, namely because someone was inside.

A woman lay naked on the ground, her curled-up frame moving as she managed shallow breaths. Her hands were shackled together and attached to the floor by a short chain. It wasn’t long enough to allow her to stand; Harvey estimated the highest she could go was to be on her knees, or all fours. There was also a pair of bowls nearby, but her hands wouldn’t be able to reach it, only her head if she stretched forward.

Harvey took a few steps forward, avoiding the expensive rug and not moving fast enough to startle her.

“Miss?”

Slowly, her head turned, and Harvey found himself looking into deep green eyes. Her lips were nearly white, but looked chapped to the point of blood. She had bruises covering her face.

She also wore a necklace of slightly yellowed pearls, marred only by flecks of decades-old blood.

“I’m here to help.” Harvey spoke in a slightly higher tone than his normal voice, knowing Owlman’s deep baritone was similar, although slightly deeper, than his own.

She shifted and opened her mouth to speak, but only resulted in a fit of coughing.

Harvey swiftly crossed the room and held her water bowl up so that she could drink like a human. She didn’t take it, and instead swallowed dryly to stop the coughing, backing away as far as the chain allowed.

He sighed.

“It’s okay.” He encouraged. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

They stared at each other for a moment, both knowing the lie in his words, before she slowly pulled herself closer and brought a hand to the damaged half of his face. Harvey swallowed the lump in his throat and remained rigid to the point of pain. She traced a faint circle, one of the few still clear in the tangle of burnt flesh.

A small smile graced her lips; “It’s okay.”

Harvey gently placed his callused hand over hers and slowly removed it from his cheek. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a paperclip and nailfile, which he had brought in case the apartment door had been locked. “I’ll get you out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Several police stations were scattered amongst the city. There were small but large in number; the theory being that Owlman couldn’t hit them all at once. They communicated via an encrypted radio given to the Captains of each station. Not that it mattered since Owlman had each station bugged, but Harvey was the only officer who knew.

Harvey’s station was the only one without a female officer, so Harvey had been able to convince Owlman that there was no need to bug the room. As such, said bathroom had been turned into a conference room as it was the only secure place in the city.

Harvey sat at the small circular table, a chunky computer monitor sitting on the surface. The blue tiled walls didn’t make it appealing to be there, despite the money they’d splurged on the fancy swivel chairs.

Slowly, Harvey was typing up a police report, waiting for someone to tell him what was going on with the dame in distress. She had tried to claw Lieutenant Zsasz’s face and so none of the other officers wanted to go near her.

Harvey would have been the one to do manage her, as for some reason unbeknownst to him he was the only one who could touch her without receiving bodily harm. However but he didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

Between the pearls around her neck and the touching of his face, she unnerved him.

He rolled his shoulders, unsuccessfully easing the muscles there.

Harvey was dragging his head in circles when the door opened, and a tall, gangly man slipped into the room. He wore tweed, which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but Harvey rarely saw Doctor Crane in anything other than tweed or sweater vests. He must have had to wear something different back in the heat of Georgia, but Harvey couldn’t imagine what.

Jonathan took the seat next to Harvey.

“Rough night?”

“Rough decade. You get anything from the girl.”

Sighing, Jonathan pushed the frames up his nose. “Yeah, I-I did. I know her name’s Selena. She thinks she’s been in those chains for over eight months, but isn’t sure... T-The inside of her thighs they-”

“I noticed.”

There was a weighty pause. Harvey looked back at the computer and the log of Owlman’s movements that night. There was a gap between 11:12pm and 3:44am, which made Harvey’s stomach drop. He didn’t want to know what the criminal had done in that time.

“At least we got her out of there.” He mumbled, scenarios unwillingly flittering through his head.

“I suppose...”

Harvey looked up at Jonathan, who had taken of his glasses and was absentmindedly turning them over in his lap. He was shivering, which wasn’t unusual as he had nearly no body fat, so sliding off his police jacket, Harvey offered it to the taller man.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem... You didn’t get a last name off her?”

“No, s-sorry, just getting her first name a-and when she was taken distressed her enough. I didn’t want to push.”

Harvey nearly smiled. Jonathan was always the best one to handle Owlman’s victims. He hadn’t had any personal experience with The Owl but he always seemed insecure and worried, which made him personable to the patients. And he treated them with the utmost care. He knew fear and hated seeing it in other people.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably, looking around the room and making indecisive humming noises. Harvey made a note on some scrap paper to have someone look up any missing Selenas and waited for Jonathan to work up the courage to ask, as he inevitably would.

“Today w-would have been your anniversary, wouldn’t it?”

Harvey rubbed the contact protecting his lidless right eye and sighed.

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“It wasn’t my department. I had no idea it would happen.”

“ _Then why the fuck do I keep you around, Dent!_ ”

“Because we’re the ones who’re in your shit. Why were missing persons searching your place anyway?”

“ _I had someone in the apartment; what the fuck business is it of yours._ ”

“It’s my business if you had something in there that could incriminate me.”

“ _How dumb do you think I am? And think hard before you answer, Harv._”

“You’re dumb enough to think you could keep a broad in your apartment without gettin’ caught.”

“ _Why shouldn’t I keep some bitch in my apartment? No one’s dumb enough to break in there._ ”

“Clearly you underestimate stupidity. So who was she? Hot? Blonde? Paraplegic?”

“ _Dark; begged me for it. Like Lois, but more chains... ... Harvey, they took the pe-_ ”

“I’ll lift them from evidence.”

 

* * *

 

Very few people in Gotham got tombstones, though there were a few from before Owlman’s rein who has the honour of having their deaths marked. No one could afford tombstones anymore so the city gave everyone a small metal plaque and buried the coffins upright. They thought it best to save room.

Harvey avoided the large, marble angel in the centre; The Wayne memorial. Everyone knew it, but no one approached it.

Tucked towards the back was a small plaque in gold, not silver like most others. She had always seen gold as glamorous and sophisticated. Harvey had thought the same of silver, and that gold was tacky, but could never bring himself to tell her.

The city allowed a sentence to be engraved under the name of the decreased; usually a description or quote. There was a limit on how many words, of course, but it was easily kept to.

_Harleen Quinzel-Dent:  
Beautiful._

Harvey was under no illusions that their marriage had been perfect. Harleen had been in love with someone else for the majority of their time together, but he had still thought of her as perfect. He wished he could blame the other man, but he was a decent guy and had never accepted her advances.

Tommy had never told Harvey that he’d killed her, but he’d found out anyway.

When she was alive, Harvey had never told anyone who he’d been married to, but he had no doubt about whether Owlman knew who she was when he’d opened her torso.

The small golden square had been defaced with two circles and a half moon, drawn in Harleen’s bright red lipstick. Harvey looked up, to search the grounds for the culprit, but he couldn’t see anyone through the rain.

It was unusual, as the two of them usually stood at her grave together.

Harvey turned up the collar of his jacket then walked back towards the entrance, keeping his head down until he got to the gates.

Now that the sun was out cars had returned to the roads. No one really believed that they were any safer, but it was easier to pretend in the light of day. When he’d arrived, Harvey’s police car had been the only vehicle in the car-park, but now a dull blue car was parked between the cemetery gates and his transport.

He received a cheerful wave from the driver’s seat.

The car was a mess, but it smelt clean enough so Harvey didn’t complain when he heard an orange can crush under his heal. The driver remained smiling, but, to be fair, he didn’t have much of a choice about it.

As always, his scars were wearing Harleen’s lipstick, but it no longer looked like he was trying for the illusion of blood, just searching for comfort in a familiar shade. His roots needed re-dying and his skin glowed an unnatural white, even though it didn’t appear to be coated with the thick make-up that usually adorned it.

“What happened to your face.”

Jokester giggled, the barest hint of a tongue between his teeth. “You of all people should know the fickleties of face-flesh, Harv”

Jokester sucked an orange powder from his fingers, making loud smacking noises that made Harvey’s good eye twitch.

“You seen your sister lately?”

“No. Apparently she checked into a hospital a while ago, but she was gone by the time I found out.”

“She’s a slippery little minx.”

“That she was.”

“ _Is_ ,” Jokester insisted.

Harvey sighed and rolled his eyes. The Jokester got on his nerves but he couldn’t fault the man after all he had been through, and all he was bound to go through in the future. His unique fighting style, which seemed to consist of being as annoying as possible, was surprisingly effective at allowing cops to rescue civilians while Owlman was distracted.

In a quick decision that seemed to be a long time coming, Harvey slipped the gold band from his finger and flung it at the other man, who caught it on reflex.

“Here; she loved you more than she ever loved me.”

The Jokester stared at it for a long, tense moment. Harvey almost forgot to breathe. Brown irises, seemingly inked by ruby reflections, slowly rose to Harvey’s face.

After a moment of tense understanding, The Jokester offered a bag and asked with the utmost sincerity;

“Cheese Puff?”

 

* * *

 

Harvey didn’t bother knocking on the apartment door, but he did open it slowly to avoid being attacked.

“Tommy, you here?”

“Yeah. Sit.”

Taking a spot on the couch, Harvey tried to lounge with just the right amount of casualness. He was suddenly very aware that he had only just been in the apartment the night before. He stuck his hand into his left pocket, fingering the confiscated pearls within like prayer beads.

A few seconds later, Tommy emerged from the bedroom. He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, with black pants and mustard yellow suspenders. His hair, normally a medium brown, was darkened. He ran an unnaturally white hand through his damp curls, and Harvey followed the motion.

“What happened to you?”

“You mean this?” Tommy held the appendage up, twisting it so Harvey could see both the front of the blanched skin and the back where the fingernails had turned yellow-green. “Just drowning someone.”

The billionaire tyrant shrugged and smirked. Owlman never smiled anymore, unless knives were involved.

Harvey thought back to Jackie, the twisted scars and new skin, and swallowed bile.

“You got those pearls for me?”

Harvey nodded and reached into his left pocket. The pearls were warm, but his hand brushed against something else. For a moment, he thought the clown must have slipped the ring back into his pocket, but when he ran a finger over the flat round surface he froze.

“Harv?”

He jumped at the sound of the suddenly dark voice, obviously impatient and picking up on his hesitation.

The two of them watched each other, trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Harvey tried to brush it off, as if he had simply gone for the wrong pocket. He went for the right side of his jacket and with a quick, fluid motion brought up his gun.

Owlman started laughing almost immediately, deep and hollow, causing Harvey’s hand to waver; “ _You’re_ going to shoot _Me_?” He snorted.

“Maybe.” Harvey took a shaky breath before fishing out the coin from amongst the pearls. He flung it at Owlman. “Or we could flip for it.”

His lips curled into a smirk or sneer.

“Sure, why not.”

The gun went off before the coin came down.

 


End file.
